ushing through the elm tree copse,
Winding up the stream, light-hearted,
Where the osier pathway leads--
Past the boughs she stoops--and stops.
Lo, the wild swan had deserted,--
And a rat had gnawed the reeds.

Ellie went home sad and slow.
If she found the lover ever,
With his red-roan steed of steeds,
Sooth I know not! but I know
She could never show him--never,
That swan's nest among the reeds.

E. B. BROWNING

[Illustration: DEEP SEA FISHERS]

MOONLIGHT SONATA

It happened at Bonn. One moonlight winter's evening I called upon
Beethoven; for I wished him to take a walk, and afterwards sup with me.
In passing through a dark, narrow street, he suddenly paused. "Hush!" he
said, "what sound is that? It is from my Sonata in F. Hark! how well it
is played!"

It was a little, mean dwelling, and we paused outside and listened. The
player went on; but, in the midst of the finale, there was a sudden
break; then the voice of sobbing: "I cannot play any more. It is too
beautiful; it is utterly beyond my power to do it justice. Oh! what
would I not give to go to the concert at Cologne!"

"Ah! my sister," said her companion; "why create regrets when there is
no remedy? We can scarcely pay our rent."

"You are right, and yet I wish for once in my life to hear some really
good music. But it is of no use."

Beethoven looked at me. "Let us go in," he said.

"Go in!" I exclaimed. "What can we go in for?"

"I will play to her," he said, in an excited tone. "Here is
feeling--genius--understanding! I will play to her, and she will
understand it."

And before I could prevent him his hand was upon the door. It opened and
we entered.

A pale young man was sitting by the table, making shoes, and near him,
leaning sorrowfully upon an old-fashioned piano, sat a young girl, with
a profusion of light hair falling over her face.

"Pardon me," said Beethoven, "but I heard music and was tempted to
enter. I am a musician."

The girl blushed, and the young man looked grave and somewhat annoyed.

"I--I also overheard something of what you said," continued my friend.
"You wish to hear--that is, you would like--that is--shall I play for
you?"

There was something so odd in the whole affair, and something so comical
and pleasant in the manner of the speaker, that the spell was broken in
a moment.

"Thank you!" said the shoemaker; "but our piano is so w